


Family History

by NGenius87



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NGenius87/pseuds/NGenius87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to my excitement for Crystal Reed returning to Teen Wolf as Marie-Jeanne Valet, I’ve decided to write a little one-shot about how I think it could go. Mainly because the Stallison need has become great. I mean they used Arden Cho as the previous nogitsune’s girlfriend, so this isn’t too far-fetched as far as plot-casting goes. Many thanks to Amelie and Loupdu77 for their corrections - you are both lifesavers and I am so sorry for the complete butchering of the French language!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family History

The pack were gathered around the table to listen to Mr Argent give them the story of his ancestor. Scott, Stiles, Liam, Lydia, Kira, Malia, and Jordan – to say the atmosphere felt awkward was putting it lightly. Most of them were on the outs, with some on the mend – but to all be this close and stuck here for a few hours to get the lowdown on how to take out the beast rampaging through Beacon Hills was akin to signing up for severe ulcers.  
  
When Chris returned with two journals in his hand and a large stack of papers, the collective sigh broke through the silence and tension with ease. He sat the two journals down at the head of the table and started passing out stacks of stapled papers – enough for each of them, with a few to spare; the extra packets he gave to Jordan and told him to pass along his knowledge to the Sheriff and Hayden’s sister – since both were now in the know about the supernatural existence.  
  
“The story I’m about to tell you . . . you need to pay attention. La Bête du Gévaudan was the start of my family becoming hunters. There are details and circumstances that you won’t find on the Internet or in the library. These packets are so you can familiarise yourself with the material as I tell you what happened 250 years ago. Everyone **except** for Parrish will burn their copies and _Parrish_ , after explaining this to Stilinski and Romero, you need to make sure you destroy them.”  
  
Used to taking orders from those in charge, Parrish nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

“These journals will remain the only source of this information in print. The beast is loose once more and I need each of you to know what you’re up against. So, listen.”

\---

_Gévaudan. 1767._

_It’s been three years since the beast started its mindless attacks against the villagers and other innocents. My family was among the first casualties. I had come home from another hunt to find my entire village slaughtered – my parents and siblings – their eyes wide and mouths gaping, skin pale as their bodies exsanguined_ _from the large gashes in their neck. Only my parents had been able to grab some form of weapon before the beast bested them. But the beast has not met me – I’ve my mother’s fire and my father’s strength and I will not stop until I have had my revenge and France is safe again. I will follow the trail of bodies to the ends of the earth if I must._

Marie-Jeanne Valet covered her tracks carefully in the snow, bow and quiver slung across her shoulders and back, to be drawn at a moment’s notice if she spotted the foul creature. The last reported attacks had been at the village near the forest, so naturally she had scouted the woods first. The trail had led out of it as the creature continued its path of destruction. She continued near, following the sounds to a river. There she spotted a lone man. Though armed himself, she knew it was dangerous to be travelling, especially alone - advice she needn’t follow given her training and knowledge. The first order of business was to protect though, escort him to safety. She headed towards him, but a blur of black leapt out towards the man in a flurry of fur, fangs, and claws. She readied her bow in an instant and notched an arrow, her eyes locked on the beast. The man drew his gun up, as if he had anticipated the attack and a loud gunshot echoed throughout the area. The beast was thrown backwards, hit with the bullet.

The man’s expression was that of relief and triumph as he headed towards the massive wolf. The blood of the beast stained the snow red, and Marie-Jeanne noted that the bullet had struck it in the neck. She, too, shared in relief that the beast had come to the end of its days. A quick movement later, however, and her bow and arrow were once again aimed with skill. The beast attacked with ferocity, landing on top of the man and opened its maw to rip his flesh. She let her arrow fly and it found purchase in the beast’s jowls, a hiss upon contact as the metal of the arrowhead burned its mouth. The beast yowled in pain and took off back into the woods.  
  
If not for the man, Marie-Jeanne would have followed it and finished the job, but a life saved was worth as much as the beast dead and she ran towards the wounded villager, kneeling at his side.  
  
“Je suis Marie-Jeanne Valet.”  
  
“Grzegorz Dobek. Vous m’avez sauvé ma vie.”  
  
His pronunciation was rough, with Slavic undertones. Not a native to her land, but a visitor. With the Polish relations resolved as they were, she figured perhaps that was from where he hailed. The tale of the beast must have reached him and he’d journeyed to Gévaudan to try his hand at killing it. The beast’s claws had dug into the man’s side, and judging from the blood, she pressed her hand against the wound, trying to keep him from bleeding out.  
  
“Levez-vous, Grzegorz; vous êtes blessé. Nous devrions aller dans un endroit sûr. La bête pourrait revenir.”  
  
Grzegorz nodded and placed his own hand against the clawed flesh, wincing from the pressure. The two of them made their way back through the woods towards town. The villagers knew the terrors of the beast first-hand. They would find help. The local inn opened its doors to them and supplied them with a room free-of-charge for wounding the beast. Marie-Jeanne set to work getting some hot water and linens to bandage Grzegorz.  
  
The water stung as she cleaned the wound, but Grzegorz knew that infection meant death and gritted his teeth against the pain, allowing the woman-saviour to work in silence. When his torso was wrapped tightly in linen to staunch the bloodflow so he could heal, Grzegorz gently reached his hand out to grab Marie-Jeanne’s arm. “Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.”  
  
Marie-Jeanne offered the man a soft smile. She knew the words were small, but she could see the wealth of gratitude in the man’s eyes. His eyes were full of questions as well. “Vous êtes autorisé à poser vos questions.”

Grzegorz was even more in awe of this woman – she was skilled in both hunting and healing, and could apparently read his thoughts. “Comment saviez-vous. . .?”

“Vos yeux sont très révélateurs, Grzegorz.” Her tone was light and she smiled softly to show him that she bore him no ill will for his curiosity.

They talked at length about her parents teaching her how to hunt from an early age as well as teaching her how to tend wounds – both hers and others. She told him about knowing how to make her own arrows and tips. When Grzegorz asked how the beast could have survived his shot, sure as he was that the wound was fatal, she became quiet, not sure how much information to give him.

“Il ya des secrets dans ce monde, Grzegorz; ce serait dangereux que vous les connaissiez.” He persisted, however, telling her that he had tracked this wolf to kill it, revealing to her through words this time, that he had heard about its ferocious killings - men, women, children - and a beast that rabid needed to be dealt with. Grzegorz told her that this wound wouldn’t stop him from seeking the beast out again for another attempt; his life wasn’t that important if it meant saving an entire region. But if he didn’t know how to make it hurt like her arrow had, then his skills were useless. Marie-Jeanne sighed. If he were going to go to lengths to hunt it, then he needed to know exactly what he was going up against. Conceding that fact, she told him a little about the beast not being an ordinary wolf.  
  
It was a magical creature – there were several magical beings on this earth – some of them with the intent to hurt innocents, others with the desire to protect them. She had fashioned her arrowheads out of wolfsbane and silver, a metal with the properties to transcend ordinary damage and inflict a different kind of wound when it came into contact with magic – something worse and permanent. The purple flower was because, while not a normal wolf, the plant would weaken the beast because of its lupine origins. She told Grzegorz that if he had a desire to really hurt the beast, then he would need silver bullets. Like any sane person, Grzegorz had doubt in what she was telling him – but from his nodding, she could tell he was trying to believe her, trying to wrap his head around all she was telling him.  
  
“Vous êtes une femme forte, Mademoiselle Valet. Votre famille doit être fière de vous.”

“La bête a tué ma famille.”

Grzegorz reached out once more to her, holding her hand in his. “Je suis désolé de l'entendre. Je vous le jure, sur ma vie vous aurez votre revanche.”

“J'ai fais moi-même le même serment.”

“Je ne doute pas de cela, mademoiselle.” Grzegorz felt her hand tighten around his and looked down at their entwined hands, before returning his gaze to find hers directed at him also.

“Vous pouvez m'appeler Marie.” She was leaning into him and he let her, driven by the same desire. If they were going to die hunting this beast come morrow, then let them enjoy their life tonight.

Their mouths stopped a breath away from each other, their lips barely touching. Grzegorz didn’t want to overstep her good nature, so he held back from completing the kiss until she was ready, instead allowing himself to revel in this tease of a kiss. Marie enjoyed this closeness, perhaps more than she should have being unwed to this man, but her life might soon be taken and this man was willing to meet death with her. When the anticipation threatened to overwhelm her, either by consuming her with want or frightening her out of losing her maidenhead, she brought them closer, allowing herself the pleasure of the kiss and whatever new experiences the night would bring.  
  
Grzegorz met her passion with his own, pulling her in to him. While lithe, her body was all firm muscle and supple curves and he allowed his desire to explore every inch of her, goaded by her moans and exclamations of excitement. His mouth kissed down her neck while his hands unknotted the strings lacing her in the back. She was just as eager to remove her own dress, standing up and letting the blue material fall to the floor. Her white shift was mostly opaque but he could make out the dark circles of her breasts and the tautness of her nipples where they pushed against the material. His eyes moved further down to see dark curls of hair, hiding her womanhood in between her thighs. She stepped toward him and he spread his knees farther apart, ignoring the twinge of pain in his side. She turned around for him and stood there, a cue he took to mean he was allowed to fully undress her.  
  
His fingers unlaced yet more string and the material’s edges eased apart slowly, tempting and teasing as more of her flesh became visible. He kissed the bare skin of her back and Marie shivered under his touch. She could feel a wetness start to creep down her thighs and a longing pool deep within her stomach. She let the straps of her shift fall down her shoulders and helped the top fold down. The chill in the air felt extra cool as it brushed against her breasts and she suddenly felt acutely aware of being so naked in front of a stranger.

Grzegorz left the knots tight near her waist so that her shift wouldn’t fall to the floor completely. He moved his hands around the curves of her hips and held her there. “Vous êtes certaine de vouloir cela, n'est-ce pas?”

Knowing that he cared enough to allow her to choose to stop if she wished, having offered so much of herself, so quickly, only reinforced in her mind that he was a good man. She placed her own hands on top of his. “Oui, je suis certain.” Marie turned around, letting him look at her, cherishing the look of desire burning through those expressive eyes of his. His body leaned into hers, his mouth going to her breast. As his tongue teased her sensitive flesh there, she gasped at the sensation. Marie’s hands gripped his forearms for stability as he held her still by the waist. The cold of the night air slowly gave way to the warm heat of his mouth; the wetness she had felt before between her legs surged again and she let her hands move up his arms, to his shoulders, one of her hands moving all the way up to cup his head and hold him against her.

His head shifted to show her other breast the same adoration and the warmth she felt when his tongue and lips sucked at her nipple was even more of a shock than the first time. She let her hands fall to her sides and they slowly gathered the skirt of her garment up to bunch up around her waist. The sound of the material moving got Grzegorz’s attention and his own hands undid the laces at his trousers. The large piece of hide was flipped over to allow his manhood a reprieve from the confines which held it only moments before.

Marie told him to lie back on the bed and he did so. He knew better than to argue given the wound on his side he’d received only earlier today. Besides, with Marie on top of him, she could take her own pace as he wasn’t sure of her experience. She knelt on the bed and straddled him, grasping his cock to align their positions.

Despite worrying about any possible discomfort, it seemed her body knew instinctively where to lead him – the wetness; she let the top of his length nestle into her curls and felt jolts of lightning shoot through her as it bumped against yet another sensitive spot. Grzegorz was out of his mind with want to be buried inside of her. He took her hand in his and helped to guide, using his other hand to pull her body up, so their mouths were close enough to kiss. When he let her push back, he manoeuvred himself slightly so that he could feel her slip slightly over him. The look of surprise in her eyes told Grzegorz that she’d never been with a man before.

“Lentement, ma chère,” he said, “lentement.”

The feeling of intimacy between them both was heady as she slowly accustomed herself to his girth and length, a strange fullness pressing into her belly when he pushed into her completely. Grzegorz relaxed a little into the bed, letting her take her time to adjust. His cock twitched as it ached to move but he knew she should begin to rock when the time was ready for her. He pulled her in for another kiss, one that was slow and sensual. She rolled her hips as she settled back down, causing them both to moan with pleasure. They continued moving together, Grzegorz assisting when Marie slowed to a halt. They built to their apex, the pain of his wound and the sensitive nerves of his manhood as she tightened around him preventing the pleasure taking him over too quickly, letting her come first. He followed soon after and left her folds, at last closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep.

He woke to find her dressing and gently got up, careful not to strain himself. She helped him put on his shirt and he helped lace her up. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. “Que Dieu soit avec nous aujourd'hui.”

She nodded in agreement, going to the window and opening the shutters to let in the early dawn light. She grabbed his gun and her bow and quiver of arrows. Grzegorz knew that his bullets wouldn’t do much against the magical wolf but if yesterday had proved anything it was that they would at least slow the beast down enough to where Marie could shoot him full of her special arrows. He loaded the gun, knowing full well, he wouldn’t have time during the hunt. Yesterday had proved that the beast was fast and every moment counted while hunting.

The two set out, asking the locals in the tavern if anymore news of the beast’s location had passed their way during the night. The innkeeper said it was by the river – some farmers had spotted it and said that it was simply pacing back and forth. Marie-Jeanne wondered if perhaps it was awaiting their return, awaiting yet another showdown. They stepped out into the wintry dawn and proceeded carefully to the spot they had met the day before. The beast was there, as reported, but it had either stopped its tireless pacing or had smelled them approaching, for it was looking at them with its large red eyes. They saw its fangs and heard its growl, yet neither Marie-Jeanne nor Grzegorz were afraid. It was time for the showdown.  
  
Both hunters readied their weapons and the beast lunged into an attack. The loud rapport of the gun rang out and two arrows found purchase in the large wolf’s hide. The beast whimpered in pain but still ran toward them in an effort to come out of the battle a victor against its enemies. Marie was reaching back into her quiver, but Grzegorz had no time to reload his gun. He bullrushed the beast back, jamming the barrel of his gun into its stomach. With a growl, the beast snapped at him, but Grzegorz lifted his arm in defence . It continued toward Marie-Jeanne, her bow notched with another two arrows. Even if she were to fire, the beast would reach her.

Grzegorz ran after it and jumped onto its back, locking his gun under its throat to pull it back. From the beast’s howl, he knew Marie-Jeanne had fired again. The beast toppled and took him down with it, rolling over. He could hear the crunch of his own bones, shocking him into silence as the pain lanced throughout his entire body.  
  
“Grzegorz!”

Marie-Jeanne ran toward her fallen hunter and once again, found herself kneeling at his side. The wideness of his eyes and his laboured breathing confirmed the sounds she had heard. The beast’s momentum had allowed it to roll back off of Grzegorz, but the damage had been done. There was blood seeping down the edges of his mouth; now that she was closer, she could hear that with every breath there was a gurgle. A cracked rib must have punctured his lung – there would be no saving him this time. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. She should have told him to stay at the inn.  
  
“La bête?”

“Il est mort. Les flèches ont percé son coeur.” Marie-Jeanne saw a small smile come to his lips. The beast was dead, but it pained her to have to know Grzegorz was not long for this world, either. The smile never left him, though and as she struggled to listen to his body, she could no longer hear his breaths. She swallowed heavily; she knew her tears were close, but she reached to his face and her fingers pressed softly against his eyelids, closing them forever. She kissed his forehead and let herself mourn.

_Gévaudan. 1768._

_A single day was all it took for my life to change. The beast was felled – both silver and wolfsbane proving a deadly combination. There have been no more attacks and France is safe now. The funeral pyre was built that night and Grzegorz_ _’ body burned in honour_ _of a warrior’s death. At least, that was what I told the villagers. The beast had bitten him and I could not risk him turning in to the very thing that killed him. He would not have wanted that, and in truth, I do not think I could have faced it. He will be remembered by me and I will share the story of his bravery with his child, the beautiful son I birthed just two weeks ago. I have named him for his father – my husband understanding of the losses I went through during the attacks of the previous years. I have promised him that any future children will carry his Argent name. The babe is hungry now and I must tend to it._

_\---_

Chris finished the story, admitting that he had never followed up on Grzegorz’ child and lineage, but that the important thing was for them to know that the weapons - bullets, arrows, blades – must be made of both silver and wolfsbane. He told them that he had already started fashioning them and to aim for the heart. The attacks in France had been numerous and it was possible that the beast had had a mate or that it could have already turned others before it had died. The fact that the beast was here, now, was the only thing that truly mattered – if it wasn’t taken down, Beacon Hills would fall and every person in this town would be slaughtered.

They passed their packets back to Chris who tossed them into the fire one at a time. “Those of you who can’t heal quickly will be in charge of learning how to craft silver and wolfsbane weapons and making sure we have an arsenal – the rest of you need to shape up and get in control of your powers so you can go up the beast in a unified offence and are prepared to regroup for a solid defence as well. Parrish, I’m going to need your expertise on this as well – you were trained for military combat and you need to make sure the rest of the force is trained as well. Most of it you can delegate to the Sheriff – then I need you to help Scott get his team ready. This beast has had a few hundred years to learn the ways of this world – I doubt it’s going to be as easy to take down as it was two hundred and fifty years ago. Battles are about precision – being able to know and lock on to a target’s weaknesses and exploit them in the heat of the moment – whether you’re in pain, or you just saw one or ten of your allies get killed. YOU need to stay sharp and focussed – let nothing and no one distract you – or you’re most likely going to be the next one to wind up dead. We don’t have a lot of time.  
  
“Okay, Parrish, head to the department – you know what to do; Scott, take Kira, Malia, and Liam – train and practice; Stiles and Lydia – you’re coming with me.” They split up into their respective groups, perhaps a bit too eagerly to seem natural – with Stiles and Lydia following Mr Argent into the garage. “Well, I can’t complain I’ve got you two – you’re practically geniuses if anything Allison said is true.”  
  
Stiles felt the usual guilt in his stomach whenever he heard Allison’s name come up in conversation. If it hadn’t been for the nogitsune choosing him as the host, if he had been strong enough to fight it off, to not let it escape – then she would still be alive. But he’d be able to do right by the Argents by helping take down the beast. When they both stood aside to let Lydia in first, Stiles put his arm out to stop Mr Argent from entering.  
  
“Stiles, this is important. I don’t have—“

“So is this,” Stiles countered, taking his wallet out of his pocket. “Stiles is just a nickname. This is my birth name.” He flipped it open to show Mr Argent his ID – underneath the surname STILINSKI was Stiles’ first: GRZEGORZ. “I’m half-Polish; my mother’s maiden name is Dobek. I don’t know if it’s the same but . . . I thought you should know.”

“I’ve spent the last 25 years of my life knowing the supernatural world exists – but this; this is whole other level of weirdness.” Mr Argent flipped the wallet closed and handed it back to Stiles. He held one of the other journals up, debating his next move, before lowering it in front of the teen. Stiles looked up at Mr Argent, his brows furrowed in question. “This was Allison’s mother’s. It was going to go to her, but . . . take care of it, Stiles. Keep it somewhere safe.”  
  
As Stiles slowly took it and let Mr Argent’s words sink in; the fact that this was to be Allison’s did nothing to assuage the knot of guilt twisting itself inside his stomach. “I’m . . .” He couldn’t quite get the word “sorry” out of his mouth; it was a small word compared to the gravity of what had happened. “There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of everything I could have done to try and keep that monster from getting out. He was a part of me – and he controlled me – and I couldn’t fight it. I wasn’t strong enough.”  
  
Chris could hear the boy’s voice as it started to shake, could see his shoulders shiver. He put his hands on Stiles to steady him. “Stiles, I want you to listen to me. I don’t blame _you_ , not one bit. I know the difference between you and the nogitsune. I also know that you’re brave and loyal and have put yourself in grave danger over and over again to protect your friends and this town. My daughter’s death was _not_ your fault. I know she would tell you the same thing if she could.”

Chris pulled Stiles to him, wrapping his arms around him. He was used to dealing with adults – hunters who had experience and legal ways of coping with grief. He chastised himself for forgetting for a while that he was still dealing with teenagers – and Stiles was human at that. “Come on; we should head in.”

Stiles backed away and nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose to stopper the tears that had been building up. He nodded and followed Mr Argent into the garage, joining Lydia. He may not have any way of going back and stopping the nogitsune, but he could still stop the beast, so that’s what he was going to focus on doing – if he _was_ descended from the Polish hunter in Marie-Jeanne Valet’s journal, then it was in his blood to help take this thing down.

**Author's Note:**

> Vous m'avez sauvé ma vie. - You saved my life.
> 
> Levez-vous; vous êtes blessé. Nous devrions aller dans un endroit sûr. La bête pourrait revenir. - Stand up; you are wounded. We should go to a safe place. The beast might return.
> 
> Vous êtes autorisé à poser vos questions. - You may ask your questions.
> 
> Comment saviez-vous. . .? - How did you know . . .?
> 
> Vos yeux sont très révélateurs. - Your eyes reveal much.
> 
> Il ya des secrets dans ce monde. Ce serait dangereux que vous les connaissiez.- There are secrets in this world. It is dangerous for you to know them.
> 
> Vous êtes une femme forte. Votre famille doit être fière de vous.- You are a strong woman. Your family must be proud of you.
> 
> La bête a tué ma famille. - The beast killed my family.
> 
> Je suis désolé de l'entendre. Je vous le jure, sur ma vie, vous aurez votre revanche. - I am sorry to hear that. I swear to you, by my life, you will have your revenge.
> 
> J'ai fais moi-même le même serment. - I made myself the same oath.
> 
> Je ne doute pas de cela. - Of this, I have no doubt.
> 
> Vous pouvez m'appeler Marie. - You may call me Marie.
> 
> Vous êtes certaine de vouloir cela, n'est-ce pas? - You are certain you want this, yes?
> 
> Lentement, ma chère. - Slowly, darling.
> 
> Que Dieu soit avec nous aujourd'hui. - May God be with us today.
> 
> Les flèches ont percé son coeur. - The arrows pierced its heart.


End file.
